Ache
by ArtChica
Summary: Ache. No pain. Where's the pain? Am I dead? No. I ache. The dead don't ache. Darkness. Silver and grey. "No, I'm not losing you now. Come on, Granger, you can't give up now. Granger!" Hermione wakes up disoriented and lost in a strange place. Draco has kept her alive & as safe as possible after Voldemort's victory. How do they survive? Where do they go from there? Dramione
1. Chapter 1

**Prequel to this story: "Last" which can be found on my profile**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to the marvelous J.K. Rowling.**

**Chapter 1**

_Ache. I ache. Everywhere. Body, mind, heart, everywhere. No pain. Pain later. Pain always follows ache. Don't like pain. Hide. Close eyes. Can't find me in darkness._

Darkness.

No thought.

Darkness.

_Blurry images. Dreams? Consciousness? Hallucinations? Chaos (_fear_). Hallways and darkness and blinding light. Cold. Hard surface, forest, running, footsteps, black hair green eyes (_Harry_), red hair freckles (_Ron_._ Ron. Ron.) _Red eyes (evil); Black metal; rough wood; white and grey, soft, worried._

_ Too confusing. Still ache. No pain, still ache. Think later, too confusing._

Darkness again.

_ Darkness gone. Good? Bad? Flash of white, grey. Cold. Rough wool. Wool is warm. Want more. Close eyes- darkness but not Darkness. A warm (_a hand). _A hand? A person. Liquid down my throat. Water? Food? Potion? Poison? Don't care. A hand, a person. _(Run.)

_Running. Running away. Footsteps, fear. Footsteps following fast. _(Run. Run. RUN!)

_Caught. I'm caught. Must have caught me. Like last time. Pain, blood, mudblood._

_Malfoys. Screams, mine and hers. Pain. No, not again, please no. NoNoNo not again no please. No, no, no. Please, kill me just kill me I don't know_

_Please_

"No. No, no. Please, I don't know"

_Moans of pain. Screams, hers and mine. Hers? Mine. Shouts, words. Mine? And his. His? Mine and his._

"NO. Not again not again. No please!"

"No, I'm not losing you now. Come on, Granger, you can't give up now."

"I don't know I don't know just kill me" _Sob._

"You're not dying on me, not after everything- "

"NO! Not again, not again! Never again. Please!" _Too much. _

_Falling, cracking, breaking, tipping point. Darkness pulls._

"NO! Granger- !"

_Darkness good. Not again, not today. Darkness instead._

"Granger! Don't you dare- Grang- "

_Darkness._

**Confused? So is Hermione. Not to worry, it will all get clearer. Want a hint? The prequel "Last" is on my profile.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

___Ache. No pain. Where's the pain? Why hasn't it come yet? _

_ Why am I not dead yet?_

_ Am I?_

_ No. I ache. The dead don't ache._

_ Do they?_

_ No, that wouldn't be right. Ghosts don't ache._

_ So. Not dead. _(Good? Bad?) _No pain _(Good.) _Ache _(everywhere), _no Darkness _(Good? Bad? I think good, for now). _Logic _(Ah! Logic! Logic is good, very good!)

_Think Hermione: observe, analyze, conclude._

Rough wool, a blanket. I'm lying down, a bed. The wool is warm. I've been here a while.

Taste: fowl, sour taste. Can't remember the last time I brushed my teeth. Sour? Like an after-taste of something strong. Food? Potion? Poison?

Smell: earthy, like dirt, and smoky, with an edge of something else.

Sound: soft sound. Crackling, like a small fire.

_(Fiendfyre, the room burning, panicked shouts, Harry and Ron and-)_

No. Focus. What do you see?

_Nothing. I see nothing._

Open your eyes.

_Grey. Rock. A wall of rock. Light flickers across it, above my shadow._

Roll over. Where is the light coming from?

_A small fire. The source of the light, the crackling, and the smoke._

What do you see?

_I don't know. It's dim. Tools, a cauldron, boxes and jars. A chair. A door (escape?) Stone walls. Natural, not built. I think. Magic can do what Muggles can't. A door isn't natural._

Conclusions:

I'm lying on a bed in a cave that someone uses for… storage? A workshop? A hide-out? For something.

Someone has been here recently.

I have been here a long time.

I'm not hurt, so…

I am probably safe. For now. Maybe.

( 6) I'm tired. Too much thinking. I want sleep. _Darkness-_

No. Stay awake. Get up.

_Why? _There's water in the corner.

_ Water?_ Yes, I see water. Water. I'm thirsty. I want water.

Get up. Go get it.

_Water, yes, the water is good. _I reach for it. It's cool. Refreshing. That's the word. Refreshing.

"Don't drink that!"

Startled, I drop the bottle, it shatters. I hear it. Don't see it. I'm looking at the voice- the boy.

White and grey. Black and green. Contrast.

A wand, a wave. The bottle is fixed, the water is in it.

"That's toxic in its raw form. I would have thought you of all people would know not to drink potion ingredients before checking it."

I stare blankly. He speaks, I know the words, my mind too sluggish. Can't think right.

He peers at me. Speaks again- a question. I know him, I think. He is familiar, but not.

"Are you alright?" Again. "Hermione?"

A name. My name. Blink. Shake my head.

"No. Not alright. Nothing alright." Nothing is. Too many questions. I know they're there, just can't think.

"No, I suppose not." Still staring at me. "Here, drink this. It's water."

_Water. Water is good. Helps. _Questions start._ No, don't start yet. Too tired. Can't let questions start. _I sit, lay on bed, yawn. I'm forgetting something. _Why is he staring?_

"Thank you."

He nods.

_Sleep. Darkness, but also dreams. Good dreams. Definitely dreams. _

(That wasn't water.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I wake up again, The boy is still here. Or is he back again? He's standing over the cauldron on the fire. Questions come back. Too many. Easy, difficult, all.

_Think. Start small._

"How long have I been asleep?" Croak: lack of use? Screaming? Dry throat?

He looks at me. "Oh good, you're awake. Do you mean since the last time you woke up, or since I found you?

I blink. "Both."

"Approximately eighteen hours since you last woke up. Three weeks since I found you."

Three weeks. Since he found me. Found me?

"You were the one chasing me in the Forest."

"No. That was someone with more sinister plans for you." Bitter tone. I don't ask what happened. It was war.

"Where are we?"

"A cave outside Hogsmede. The Dark Lord won. Death Eaters have taken over Hogwarts."

_Cave. Like Sirius, when he escaped the dementors. _

"Are we safe here?"

A sneer. A Malfoy sneer. Malfoy.

The boy is a Malfoy, but what is a Malfoy?

"No one is safe anywhere." Glances at the door. "But we are as safe as anyone can be these days."

Questions. So many questions. Where to start? People? Results? Plans? Who? How? Why?

"What is that?" Point to the potion. Inconsequential, but the only question that my lips would move for.

"An emergency stock. Before potion supplies become impossible to procure, I am brewing any potion that may be useful in the next few years. Polyjuice, Felix Felicis, Veritaserum, Murtlap Essence. Healing potions and sleeping draughts, poisons and antidotes; some you would approve of, some you wouldn't. Dark magic and all."

He's rambling. Why? What does he mean, I wouldn't approve of? Anything useful is good, right?

_Not Dark magic_. Dark magic is evil.

_ Is Malfoy evil_?

_ No, he helped me. He saved me. He can't be evil._

_ He-who-must-not-be-named is evil._

"This one has been particularly useful the past few weeks. Simple, but effective. You've been drinking it by the liter."

"Me?"

"Yes. It helps clear the mind, sooth emotions. Aparently a side-effect is peaceful sleep. I've been tempted to take some myself, but you need it more." Pause. Slightly awkward.

"You ramble. Why?"

Scowl. Was that rude? "I do not. Malfoys don't ramble."

"Then I guess you are not a Malfoy."

He flinches, looks preoccupied.

I frown. I said something wrong. "I'm sor-"

"No, I suppose I am not a Malfoy. Not a proper one, anyway. But maybe I'm alright with that."

He's not alright with that.

"Maybe I can become someone else."

But he's Malfoy. Blond haired, grey eyed, sneering Malfoy.

"I apologize if my rambling bothers you. I have gotten used to thinking aloud to break the silence while you sleep."

I tilt my head. "Do Malfoys apologize?"

Another sneer. "Malfoys have impeccable manners. Apologies are routine, but sincere apologies are reserved for the direst of circumstances. Sincerity implies emotion attached to the apology."

A textbook-memorization. A learned response. Pureblod upbringing.

I just nod, and watch him work. He's watching it closely, giving it his full attention. The potion is almost done.

"What, no more questions from the endlessly curious Hermione Granger?"

I shake my head. "I have more. I'm afraid of the answers."

"The brave Gryffindor admitting cowardice? You must be ill."

"I don't feel very brave. I don't feel much of anything."

Malfoy scoops the translucent blue potion into a bottle. He gives me a thoughtful look, then looks back at the bottle. Stoppers it.

"I think you've had enough of this."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Days pass. I do not know how many. A week? A month? A year? It is difficult to tell down here. I'm stronger. I'm starting to feel like myself again. The Malfoy boy brings food frequently, and anything else I request. I have read five books. He has brewed three potions. I offered to help him once I felt clear-headed enough. The next day he brought another cauldron, lit another fire, and handed me a recipe.

We don't talk much. There's not much to talk about, except the war. I don't like hearing it, and he clearly does not like talking about it.

When I finally worked up the courage to ask him what happened after Harry-

_After Harry died._

-when I asked him, he told me as much as he knew. I asked about certain people. He did not know many of them, but he promised to find out, if he could.

Luna survived, but her father did not.

Neville was caught after beheading the snake-

_(six down, two to go. The diadem, the Dark Lord)_

-but he escaped and is now leading what is left of Dumbledore's Army.

The Weasleys are in hiding, except for Fred and Ron, who were… who were killed.

Mrs. Tonks is taking care of Teddy.

Bellatrix is dead. Mrs. Weasley got her revenge.

That night I cried for all those who were lost, and even more, I cried for all those who would suffer in the weeks and years to come. Some will die, some will experience physical pain, all will live in fear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

A few more days pass; I recover a little more every day. Malfoy continues to be civil, almost kind, toward me, and I see no reason to change my attitude toward him. Now that I can remember what he was like before, I wonder why his behavior has so suddenly changed. Unfortunately, this is one of those questions whose answer cannot be found in any of my books.

The next night, I dream again.

_First, the dreams are pleasant. Harry, Ron and I are up to our usual adventures. The exciting ones, not the terrifying ones. Then Ginny comes in, and Luna, and Neville. Then the dreams turn darker. We're back in the Department of Mysteries, totally lost in a world that defies logic. The Great Mysteries of the Universe unravel before us, only to snare my friends one by one._

_ Ron was strangled by the brains._

_ Luna drifted away in the Space Chamber._

_ Neville was buried under the hailstorm of prophecy globes. _

_ Ginny was entombed in the Ever-Locked Love Chamber_

_ Harry was wrapped in the Veil of Death._

_ I was endlessly chased through the Time Rom by black-robed figures wearing skull masks._

_ Malfoy grabbed my hand and pulled me back to the Gryffindor Common room. I felt comfortable sitting in front of the fire. But then the flames started taking the shape of wild beasts that snapped and clawed at the walls and furniture. I screamed and looked for Malfoy, but he was gone. I ran up the stairs into the Great Hall to find it in ruins, as if no one had been there for a hundred years. Mrs. Norris hissed at me from across the room. I ran down, down, down to the dungeon. _

_ "What are you doing here, mudblood?" sneered a familiar voice. Draco Malfoy. My forearm throbbed. Blood started dripping down my hand. Except it wasn't blood. It was a dark, murky water. Mud._

_ "Malfoy! Help! Please!"_

_But he just stood there staring at me. Draco Malfoy: cruel, petty bully. Draco Malfoy: cowardly on-looker._

I wake up in the dark, fearing for a moment that I am still dreaming, and wait for the next monstrosity to appear. I hold my breath, but the only sound is my pulse as it pounds though my veins.

I have an irrational urge to slice into the skin on my forearm and prove to myself that my blood runs red, just like everyone else's. I am human. I am mortal. I am awake. I am sane.

_But sane people do not cut open their wrists to make sure they do not bleed mud._

_I am sane. It was just a nightmare, and now I am awake._

I curl up, pulling the blankets closer, and wait for fires to be lit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

When Malfoy comes again, it is midmorning, judging by the glimpse of sunlight from the door. He never comes at the same time of day and he never explains why. I do not ask what he does when he is not here. The less I know, the better. Besides, the black mark on his forearm and the ashy-white pallor of his complexion tell me more than enough.

He does not hide the Dark Mark. He avoids looking at it, but he does not hide it. I think it is more a matter of concession or sensory adaptation than of pride or aggression. This Malfoy is different. Draco Malfoy: the grave, hard-working caretaker.

We begin working on potions side-by-side, in nearly total silence, just as we do every day. Mine is a new elixir. His has been brewing for days, and is almost complete. The pumpkin-orange broth simmers over the low flames.

Malfoy curses under his breath and begins rifling through the pages of his potions book. He reads a page again and runs his hands through his hair, still muttering profanity.

I break the silence between us. "What's wrong?"

He glances my way, then back to the book. "I misread the ingredients list. I don't have the last ingredient."

"What is it?" Without waiting for an answer, I lean over and look at the list on the page. A the bottom is written:

A friend's blood, willingly sacrificed. Add one to ten drops, to strengthen. Do not exceed ten drops.

"I was thinking it would be my blood. A friend, as in someone who does not oppose the creation of this potion. But I think now it means the literal sense of the word. Friend, as in one who cares for and enjoys the company of another. I do not think I can count myself as my own friend. My blood will not suffice."

"Can you find a friend who will help you?"

He shakes his head even before I finish speaking. "Even if I had a friend still alive and speaking to me, even if I could explain why I'm making this potion, the blood needs to be added now, before the potion curdles."

"You need a friend who is here right now."

His eyes darted up to meet mine. _White and grey, like clouds. _"Granger," he hesitated, "I need to ask a huge favor of you."

"You need my blood." A toneless statement of fact.

"Just one drop," he almost pleads. "One drop of blood will make it work."

"Is that what we are, Malfoy? Friends?" I'm curious.

He chooses his words carefully, seriously. "You are the closest thing I have to a friend these days."

I pick up the small knife from tool kit. Memories of the nightmare and my illogical reaction flash in my mind as the blade flashes across my palm.

I hold my fist over the cauldron and the red blood drips into the orange broth.

One

Two

Three

Malfoy looks surprised, but does not dare look away for fear of losing count.

Four

Five

Six

I wonder why I am doing this for him.

I wonder why he has done all this for me.

Seven.

"That's enough," Malfoy reaches out and pulls my hand away from the potion, which is now a dense sapphire-blue.

An eighth drop smears across his palm.

Very gently, he uncurls my fingers and holds my hand flat, palm-up. He takes out his wand and, muttering a spell, closes the cut. I tug my hand away, but his grip is firm. He picks up a clean cloth and rubs away the blood left on my palm and fingers. There is nothing to suggest I ever cut my palm, except for the faint trace of red smeared into the lines of his.

We stare at each other for a moment, uncertain. Then Malfoy releases my hand and turns back to the potion. When he has it cooled, bottled, and labeled, he turns back to me.

I ask him what I have wanted to know since I regained consciousness.

"Why are you helping me?"

Malfoy sits down and rubs his face tiredly. Slouching so that his forearms rested on his knees, he stared at the ground while he spoke.

"The moment Potter died, we ran. My father, my mum, and I. We had been counting on The Great Harry Potter to triumph once again. My father had shown that his interests leaned toward my safety rather than the Dark Lord's will. My mother had betrayed him.

"So we ran. We found a safehouse where no one would be able to find us, and fortified it with every defensive magic at our disposal.

"But none of us meant to live out our lives in hiding. Malfoys do not go unnoticed. We are too bloody proud for that. We needed an escape plan. It was far too late to go crawling back to the Dark Lord, so we needed him and his Death Eaters out of our way."

At this he looks up and meets my eyes.

"We needed someone who could kill You-Know-Who. Potter was dead, but I figured he would have told you and the Weasel how to finish the job. The Weasel is dead, so you were our last chance. You are my last hope."

"You must be desperate, if you would go through all this trouble just to get my help."

He gives me a sharp look, but then turns away again. "You were dying. I couldn't let my last chance for freedom slip away so easily."

I nod. "Well, then I suppose I should be grateful that you needed my help. A life for a life, right? You saved mine, so I'll help save yours."

He gives me a weak smile at that. "A life debt. Now that's something I understand. Purebloods are obsessed with political debts."

"What a horrible way to live. Only focused on who owes who and how much power you all have over each other."

"Well, the way I see it, the Dark Lord holds all the power now."

"So is this just another play to gain more power? Do the Malfoys not already have enough?"

The glare he gives me was one of his worst. "We lost _everything_, Granger. Everything except each other. All I am trying to do is regain enough power to give ourselves some freedom. Freedom from fear, freedom to live, freedom to stay in our own bloody home."

"Everyone deserves freedom."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Draco would leave every day, sometimes taking potions with him, sometimes bringing them back. I asked him where he went. He told me he sneaks into Hogwarts. Aberforth's tunnel was discovered, but a new one had opened up inside the Shrieking Shack. Aberforth would deliver food for the refugees in the Room of Requirements. Apparently the Room's defense mechanisms were cleverer than the Death Eaters.

One time he followed Aberforth, and found out what was going on inside our beloved school. One of the Ravenclaws greeted him warily and answered his questions. She mentioned a need for potions, as Madam Pomfrey was often forbidden to treat the students.

Draco caught on to the idea and the two struck a deal. Dumbledore's Army would give or steal potion ingredients (Slughorn tended to turn a blind eye) and Draco would brew the potions they needed. Eventually it was more than just healing potions they were using, and Draco began saving some for his own emergency supply.

"There's this crazy rumor going around the DA that former Death Eater Draco Malfoy has rescued and is now hiding the heroic Hermione Granger."

I smiled. "What in Merlin's name would give them that idea?"

"I told you they were bonkers. What's next, the Dark Lord declares a holiday?"

"Could you imagine him, dressed up in a Christmas sweater, handing out sweets and singing carols?" We both laugh at the ridiculous notion.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

After about a month of helping brew potions, I decide it is time to tell Draco about the horcruxes. I will need his help, and he cannot hunt something he does not know about.

"Draco, do you know why Bellatrix was so desperate to know how we had the Sword of Gryffindor that day?"

"The day you lot were brought to the Manor? She wanted to know if you were in her vault, if you had stolen anything else."

"And what is the one thing that would make her so afraid and desperate that she would hesitate to tell the Dark Lord she had found Harry?"

Draco thinks for a moment. "If she thought something had gone wrong, something that would bring his wrath down on her. What did the Dark Lord tell her to put in the vault?" As usual, Draco is quick to put two and two together.

I look at him cautiously, weighing my words and looking for his reaction. "Do you know what a horcrux is?"

Draco frowns. "Only that they are incredibly Dark magic. Not even my father would talk about them."

"That's odd, considering your father was entrusted with one, and passed it off to Ginny Weasley," I frown, annoyed with the man's hypocrisy.

I explain what a horcrux is, how it is created and what it does.

Grey eyes widen with realization. "Second year. The Heir of Slytherin… You-Know-Who kept part of his soul in an old book?"

"His old diary. That was one of the first he made, and the first one that was destroyed. Harry, Ron, and I spent that year on the run looking for the rest of the seven he created."

Draco looks horrified. "He made _seven_ of these?"

"Technically six. The seventh one was unintentional. The eighth piece of his soul is all that remains in his body. Imagine living with 1/128 of your soul."

"No wonder he doesn't seem human, why he was able to come back when everyone thought he was dead. So that's what you and Potter and the Weasel were up to last year?"

"Yes. We had to hunt down and destroy all the horcruxes."

"And how many did you get?"

"Harry stabbed the diary with a basilisk fang in second year. Dumbledore used the Sword to smash the ring in sixth year. Ron did the same to the locket last winter. I destroyed the cup before the beginning of the battle. Neville beheaded the snake during the battle. You-Know-Who killed Harry at the end of the battle."

"Six. The eighth is the Dark Lord himself. So what's the seventh?"

"Do you remember when you followed us into the Room of Lost Things? Do you remember what we were after?"

"You had a piece of jewelry. A crown?"

"The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw; Tom Riddle went to Albania just to find it. And he defiled it."

"How did it end up in the Room? Was he really so arrogant as to think no one else had ever been there?"  
"He was. And we almost destroyed it, before you and your goons burned the place down."

Malfoy curses loudly. "He was- It was- I- so close! Of course it would be me! I always mess things up for myself."

"Draco! Calm down! It can still be destroyed. We just have to figure out where it is, and how to destroy it."

"Fine, fine, ok. And how do we do that?"

"The same way we got rid of all the others. Logic and determination, and a great deal of close calls."

Draco is silent for a long while, thinking. "And once the diadem is gone? We can kill the Dark Lord?"

"Yes. I don't know how we will do it, but he will be completely mortal."

"So we need a plan, two plans really, supplies, and a wand for you."

I brighten at that. "A wand? It's been months since I've last held a wand. I miss using magic."

"Yes. It will be difficult to get one, but I will figure out a way to find one for you."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Eight days later, Draco walks in looking battered and worn out, as if he had been in a fight.

"I had a run-in with a group of snatchers. Bloody idiots, the lot of 'em, but they put up a fight."

He waves off my concern and attempts to help him. Sitting on the chair, he closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. I look him over, but don't see any signs of broken bones or serious bleeding. Just some minor scrapes and bruises- he got lucky.

Suddenly Draco smiles and straightens up. "I've got something for you, though."

"Oh? And what is it? Another book?" I don't bother concealing my excitement.

He laughs a little. "Better. Hard to believe, I know, but it is." From inside his cloak he pulls out a wand I do not recognize. I reach out for it, but Draco jumps out of the way, rattling the chair.

"Patience, Granger," he grins, "I haven't gotten a proper look at it yet. Have to make sure it's the right one for you" He dodges another attempt to grab the wand.

"Let's see now. I'm no wand maker, but I would say this is about eleven inches." I snatch at the wand again, but he blocks me with his free hand. "Cherry wood, if I'm not mistaken. Pliable but sturdy."

When I lunge for it a fourth time, he holds it above our heads. He's several inches taller than I am, so the wand is out of my reach. "Draco!" I whine. "That's not fair. Give it here."

"The core, of course, is nearly impossible to determine. However, the two most common materials are dragon heartstring and unicorn hair. Which of the two do you think it might be, Hermione?"

"How should I know? You haven't even let me hold it yet." I jumped once more and managed to grab hold of the wand. With a shout of triumph, I wrestled it from his grasp.

I step back so I can examine the wand myself. Draco seems to have been correct about its make. I look up at him to see him watching me with the tiniest of smiles. Most people would have missed it, but I have been around him for weeks now. I throw my arms around him.

"Thank you, Draco. Thank you." Before he's even recovered from the surprise, I let him go and walk a few paces away to try out the want. It is different from my old wand, but it seems to be eager to help me do what I want it to do. I remember Olivander talking (months ago? Years? A lifetime?) about wands changing allegiances. I suppose this is my wand now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Draco walks in with heavy footsteps and slumped shoulders. He looks exhausted. He looks pained.

"Draco? Are you alright?"

He nods his head but collapses onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. Something has happened, something different. I sit next to him and put my hand on his shoulder without saying a word.

"It's just too much. All of it. We're not supposed to be fighting this war. This was our parents' war. We're supposed to be finishing school, starting new lives, hanging out with our mates, and going on dates. We're not supposed to grow up this fast."

Part of me wanted to laugh and say "Life is cruel."

But a larger part of me tells me to wrap my arms around him. It feels protective and comforting, like my mother used to when she chased away the nightmares.

Draco half turns and hugs me back, resting his cheek on the top of my head. A long moment passes like that, without moving. And then…

Draco kisses me. It is not a gentle, chaste kiss. It is forceful, desperate. And I kiss him back, because I understand.

We are not supposed to grow up so fast. We are supposed to be going on dates, spending time with friends and starting new lives. In this moment, we are not Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. We are not pureblood and muggle-born, Dark and Light. We are two teenagers desperately seeking some kind of normalcy from each other. Looking for a link to who we were before the world turned dark.

I pull away first, needing to breathe, but don't let go of him. Kisses trailed across my jaw and down my neck, stopping at a soft spot above my collarbone. I gasp, sliding my fingers up his back and into his hair.

He continues to suck on the spot, my hands fist in his hair, until I can't stand it any longer. I pull him back to me and kiss him with even more desperation. I slide my tongue past his lips and we fight for dominance. Draco wins and our tongues end up in my mouth. With one hand on my shoulder and the other on the bed, supporting his weight, he slowly pushes me down until my head hits the pillow. And he is on top of me, kissing me senseless. And I am under him, running my hands across his body.

He has too many clothes on, I decide. That robe needs to come off. So did that button-down. I must be wearing too many layers as well, because Draco slides the jumper over my head and tosses it aside. My blouse and his shoes are quick to follow.

I slide my hands down his newly-bare torso, eliciting a moan of pleasure from Draco. In retaliation, his fingers lightly sweep over my sides and up over my breasts. _Oh that's not fair._ But two can play at that game.

And so the night is lost in passionate kisses and maddening touches, both of us trying to outdo the other, both of us seeking some alternate reality from the one we endure. And in the morning, the ache I feel is of an entirely different sort.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

We never mention that night afterword. An unspoken agreement seems to have passed between us, and the matter was all but forgotten. We had more important things to worry about.

Hogwarts was becoming even more difficult to sneak into and out of. More than once Draco was gone for several days, having been trapped somewhere hiding from Death Eaters. Frequently he came back covered in scratches and bruises, but he would just shrug and say he still had it better than the students.

A new suspense has filled the air. We both know that soon we will leave our relative safety and go in search for the last Horcrux. Neither of us says anything, but the knowledge of it is in our eyes and voices and nightmares. We just wait for some sign, some last straw, some… something… that will start the reaction and throw us into the whirlwind of fight-or-flight. It feels as if the very earth is holding her breath, not daring to breathe lest she shatter the quiet.

I do what I can to prepare. It feels even more somber than the last time, when I was preparing for an expedition with Ron and Harry. This time they are not with me. This time I do not need my books to tell me what and where and how. This time I do not plan on being gone for long. One way or another, this last battle will end soon, and with it the war.

My beaded handbag is long gone, but I replicate it using a spare rucksack. Draco doesn't comment when he notices I've started storing all the potions in it, or when some of our clothes and supplies join the potions. I sort through the bag again and again, making sure we have everything. The only thing we're missing is a tool to destroy the diadem.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

I jump, startled, and the bottle I was holding shatters on the ground. Draco doesn't bother closing the door he just burst through, shouting for me to grab the rucksack and let's go, there's no time to waste. I shove on my shoes for the first time in months and reach for my cloak and bag, but Draco already has them. He hands me the cloak and grabs my arm, twisting us around. We are squeezed through the in-between before we reapperate in a new landscape, somewhere south far away from Hogwarts.

Draco had been seen by the Death Eaters. He had been careless, sneaking back out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He had been too elated about being one step closer to freedom to notice he was being followed until it was too late.

I am not angry with him. We have been waiting for this for weeks. We were not caught unprepared. I mentally brace myself for the task ahead, but I am caught off guard when Draco shows me the cause of his distraction. From the inner pocket of his cloak he pulls out a long ivory dagger. No, not a dagger, a tooth. I recognize it as a match to the ones Ron and I retrieved from the Chamber of Secrets during the Battle of Hogwarts.

I laugh with relief and a mad sort of joy. We are a long way yet from destroying the Dark Lord, but at least now we have a way to do so. Better yet, Draco has been able to pick up some rumors about his whereabouts. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has become paranoid, shutting himself away from the Death Eaters. We assume he has the diadem with him, not trusting magical wards and monsters with his last tie to the living world.

So we set off in search of this fortress. We talk, discussing scenarios and possible outcomes. No plan, never a plan. Plans have a way of going wrong. But we are prepared for anything we might face.

An unfamiliar ache fills my chest. It is like longing, and fear, and excitement. I do not mention it to Draco, but I can see his expression mirrors mine. His eyes are filled with a strange light, and then I know what it is we are feeling.

Hope.


End file.
